


Something We Just Know

by Ragingbulldurham



Category: Jurassic World - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Post-Movie, prompt, we're going to put that tag there just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingbulldurham/pseuds/Ragingbulldurham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Karen starts seeing a new guy and the boys take an impromptu flight to Aunt Claire and Uncle Owen's house in protest and in search of comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's something we just know

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt! This one from the lovely daylightspeaks:
> 
> Prompt: Karen starts seeing a new guy and the boys take an impromptu flight to Aunt Claire and Uncle Owen's house in protest and in search of comfort. 
> 
> The title is from Twin Forks. Enjoy!

It’s the sound of the door opening that wakes Claire, and she blinks open one eye to glance at the clock. It’s three in the morning, and she pauses, thinking maybe she was just hearing things, when she hears footsteps, and suddenly she’s wide awake.

“Owen,” she hisses, pushing at his still body. He mumbles something that she can’t quite make out in response, burying his head deeper into the pillow, and she pushes him harder. “Owen, I think there’s someone in the house.”

“What?” Owen asks, blinking at her, his voice drowsy and hair rumpled.

“There’s someone in the house,” she repeats, and his eyes widen and he’s out of the bed like a shot.

“Stay here,” he instructs, and she listens to him for exactly three and a half seconds before she also climbs out of bed, and slips out into the hallway behind him. The creak of the floorboards make Owen spin around, and when he sees that it’s just Claire, his shoulders slump. “I thought I told you to stay there.”

“Yeah, like that was going to happen,” she whispers back.

“If you could just listen to me once,” Owen continues, but he reaches back and grabs her hand, so Claire figures that’s as good as permission, and they make their way quietly down the stairs.

“Do you have a plan?” Claire asks. “I mean, what if they’re armed?”

“This is why I told you to stay put,” he mumbles.

“Even if I would have stayed put, you _still_ wouldn’t have had a plan,” Claire points out, but he’s stopped from replying by the sound of chairs scraping against the kitchen floor, and they both freeze, Claire’s fingers digging into Owen’s arm.

He presses a finger to his lips, and she nods, and they creep towards the kitchen. Owen starts to peer around the corner when his whole body relaxes, and Claire stands up on her tiptoes to see around him.

“Zach?” She asks in surprise. “Gray? What the hell are you two doing here?” Her voice startles the boys, who both jump a little, and then have the good sense to look sheepish.  

“Hi Aunt Claire,” Gray answers first.

“What the _hell_ are you two doing here?” Claire repeats. “How did you get here? Does your mother know you’re here?” The questions come tumbling out of her mouth, and both boys just blink at her in response.

“We flew here,” Zach says, with a shrug, as if that’s not that big of a deal. “And then we took a cab. And then we used the spare key you have hidden under that fake rock. You really should get a better hiding place. _Everyone_ knows about those fake rocks.” Claire rubs at the bridge of her nose, and Owen decides to step in, pressing a kiss to Claire’s temple and pulling out a chair for her.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” He suggests, dropping into the empty chair next to Claire’s.

“Mom has a new boyfriend,” Gray blurts out. “And he’s _awful,_ and the divorce hasn’t even been a year!”

In the wake of the incident, Karen and Scott had tried to give it another go, the prospect of losing both boys had made both reevaluate, and for a while things _had_ been better, it seemed almost as if things were going to work out just fine, but then the bottom fell out and things crumbled.

Once again Karen had sent the boys out to Claire while she and Scott hashed out the ugly details, only this time with a promise from Claire that there would be no near death experiences.

“You can’t really promise something like that,” Owen had argued one lazy Sunday before the boys arrived, Claire curled up against him, his fingers drawing patterns in her bare skin. “I mean, it’s not like you can plan for every eventuality, not even you have that kind of control.”

“Clearly,” Claire deadpanned, reaching up to brush a kiss on his lips. “The best I could do was promise no dinosaurs.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Owen had smirked, and then kissed her again, this time meaning business. Their house, and privacy, was about to be invaded by two boys. He needed to take advantage while he could.

But Gray was right, that was less than a year ago, and Owen hadn’t heard about a new boyfriend, but one sideways glance at Claire told him that she did. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Claire murmured, reaching over and pushing a piece of Gray’s hair off his face.

“So okay, your mom has a new boyfriend, and then what? Walk us through it,” Owen prompts, and Zach sighs.

“He’s over a lot, and he calls me _champ_ ,” Zach makes a face.  “And we just couldn’t take it anymore, so we booked a flight…”

“Using what money?” Claire interrupts.

“His credit card,” Zach smirks, and Owen fights the urge to high five the kid. Somehow he thinks Claire would not find that amusing. “We booked a late flight out, snuck out after they went to bed, took a cab to the airport, and then you know the rest. Flight, cab, key under the rock.”

“Your mom is going to flip out when she wakes up and you aren’t there,” Claire sighs.

“Don’t make us go back yet,” Gray pleads. “It’s summer, we don’t have school, we can stay here for a little while, can’t we?” Owen didn’t answer. This was Claire’s family, Claire’s decision. He would stand by whatever she chose to do.

There was a long moment of silence, Zach slumped in the chair, already believing the worst, and Gray glancing between Claire and Owen, his eyes hopeful.

“Okay,” Claire finally says, and Gray grins, bouncing slightly in his seat. “But we have to call your mom. And she has to give it the okay. But if it’s okay with her, it’s okay with me.” She reaches under the table to tangle her fingers with Owen’s, and he nods his agreement.

“Yes!” Gray exclaims, and Zach straightens, looking relieved.

“We’ll call her right now,” Claire warns. “And you’re going to wake her up, and she’s going to be angry, so maybe we call her to tell her where you are and then tomorrow we’ll ask if you can stay.” Zach nods, sliding his phone out of his pocket.

“Thanks Aunt Claire,” Gray catapults out of his chair and nearly knocks both Claire and the chair over with the force of his hug.

After they hang up with Karen- not exactly a fun conversation- Owen leads the boys upstairs to the spare bedroom, and Claire climbs back into bed, exhausted just thinking about having the boys there for any length of time. She feels the bed dip with the weight of Owen’s body, and then his hands, large and comforting, tug her closer to him. She tucks her head under his chin, and he tightens his grip on her. There’s a moment of still silence, and then she speaks up,

“What in the hell did we just agree to?”


	2. We feel it in our bones

This time it was the sound of an explosion that woke Claire, and she bolted awake in bed, gasping for breath.

Owen was fast asleep next to her, his head buried in the pillow, and she took a moment to bring down her heart rate as she remembered that she was at home. In San Diego. In her own bed with her husband, and she was _safe_.

She was convinced she was going crazy until she heard it again, and with a groan she remembered that Gray and Zach were there, and she shoved at Owen’s shoulder until he grunted.

“I think Gray and Zach found your Playstation,” she reported, flopping back down on the bed beside him. 

“Does that mean that they’re preoccupied for the moment?” Owen asked, opening his eyes to look at her, a slow smile sliding across his face. He rolled over, tugging her towards him, pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

“For the moment,” she matched his grin and loses herself in him for a moment before they hear a crash and Zach hissing, “Gray!” and Claire sighed, running a hand over her face. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, and Owen darted a hand to catch hers.

“Hey, hey, it can’t be that important, whatever they broke,” he insisted. “We’re in the middle of _something_.”

“They’re no longer preoccupied,” Claire pointed out, reaching out to grab her robe and wrapping it around herself. She glanced down at where the sheet was tented, and then smirked. “I’m going to go make pancakes. Join us when you’ve taken care of that.”

“You’re falling down on your wifely duties, you know,” Owen called out as she moved towards the bedroom door. “I’m pretty sure not leaving me hanging was in your vows.”  Her twinkling laugh as she closed the door behind her was her only response, and it was his turn to fall back against the bed with a groan.

Claire made her way down the stairs and found both Zach and Gray in the kitchen, a broken plate the culprit of the noise, and they both looked up guiltily when they heard her footsteps.

“Zach broke it,” Gray announced immediately, and Zach huffed.

“No, dude, it was you,” he shot back, and then turned to his aunt. “It was Gray.”

“It’s fine,” Claire reassured, crossing over to the coffee maker, brushing a kiss to both of their cheeks along the way. “And good morning.” She found the coffee already made, and she spun around to look at the boys in surprise.

“I figured you’re letting us stay here, the least I could do was make coffee for you,” Zach shrugged, and Claire grinned at him.

“A girl could get used to this,” she smiled.

“Get used to what?” Owen asked coming into the kitchen. He gave both boys a fist bump before running his hand along his wife’s waist as Claire stood at the counter, dropping a kiss to the top of her head as he settled his hand on her hip, and leaned into her.

“Zach made coffee for us,” Claire reported, twisting out of his arms to grab a mug and pouring herself a cup. “Supplying me with coffee was _definitely_ in your vows. Who is falling down on their marital duties now?” Owen caught sight of both of the boys’ wide grins, clearly enjoying watching their aunt and uncle banter, and he made a mental note to ask Claire what all she knew about Karen’s new boyfriend.

They were good kids, and they weren’t prone to overreacting — Owen had indisputable evidence to support that fact. These were the kids, after all, that kept their heads and escaped from the Indominus Rex. There must be a reason they weren’t fans of Karen’s new boyfriend, and he had a feeling it wasn’t just because he called them “champ” on occasion.

“You’re right,” Owen gave her a playful smile. “I guess we’re even then.”

“Even for what? What did you do Aunt Claire?” Gray asked, and Claire’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, Aunt Claire,” Owen echoed with a shit-eating grin. “What did you do?”

“I think this is one of those things we’re not supposed to know,” Zach muttered, glancing between Owen and Claire. “I think this is one of those things we don’t _want_ to know.”

“I’m going to make pancakes,” Claire hastily changed the subject, clapping her hands together. “Who wants pancakes?” 

* * *

Once they had eaten, and the kitchen had been cleaned up, Owen offered to take the boys down to the beach to teach them how to surf, something which required a shopping trip first to buy swimming trunks for both.

In their haste to get out of Madison, neither Zach or Gray had really thought over what kind of clothing they would need for a trip to the west coast, and Claire found herself making a list for Owen to take with him to get them everything they would need for the duration of their stay.

“Speaking of,” Owen had said when it was just the two of them in the kitchen, “how long do we think they’re staying?”

“I have no idea,” Claire admitted. “I’ll call Karen when you guys leave. Karen thought the boys liked him, Pete, she thought everyone was getting along. But they’re good judges of character, _really_ good judges of character, and if they don’t like him…” She shrugged helplessly, and Owen nodded.

“There’s a reason,” he completed.

The discussion was shelved by the sound of Gray and Zach’s footsteps on the stairs, Gray bounding into the kitchen, nearly buzzing with excitement.

“Have fun, guys,” Claire said as Owen searched around for his wallet and keys (both of which Claire found first, handing them over to her husband, who accepted with a rueful smile). “Hope you don’t run into any mosasaurus in the water.”

“That’s not funny, Aunt Claire,” Zach replied, as Owen opened the back door for them to pass through.

“It was a _little_ funny,” Claire huffed, as Owen leaned in to give her a kiss goodbye.

“Of course it was,” he deadpanned.

“Go,” Claire pointed to the door, and he stole one more kiss before following the boys out to the car.

Claire waited exactly four minutes after she heard the car drive away before she pulled out her phone and dialed her sister’s number. Karen answered on the second ring, and Claire knew her sister well enough to pick up the concern mingled with anger in her voice.

“First, I’m sorry,” Karen said by way of greeting. “I had no idea that they would jump on a plane and head your way. Although, I should have. All those two talk about is Uncle Owen.” And it didn’t take an expert to pick up the bitterness in Karen’s voice.

“They do have a bit of hero worship going on,” Claire admitted, and then she shook her head a little. She was one to talk. _Kettle, meet pot, you’re both black._

“Yeah, no kidding,” Karen replied. “You don’t live with it. It’s all Owen all the time.”

“Actually I _do_ live with all Owen all the time,” Claire quipped, and for a moment she wondered if she had pissed her sister off enough for Karen to hang up the phone when she realized that her sister was quietly crying. “Oh Karen, what happened? I thought you said everyone was getting along?”

“I thought they were,” Karen said in a small voice. “I had no idea that they were so unhappy.”

Obviously, Claire wanted to say, they were unhappy. Unhappy enough that they stole a credit card, booked a flight, and flew halfway across the country. Something was going on that Karen was either ignoring or refusing to see, and Claire wanted her sister to be happy, of course she did. She wanted Karen to be as blissfully happy as she was with Owen (and that was the right word. Because she _was_ , Claire was blissfully happy. And sometimes, when she was feeling extra low, Karen would point out to Claire that they were still in the honeymoon phase.

“This will pass,” Karen warned.

But Claire chose to ignore her, because Karen didn’t know what it felt like to have Owen’s arms around her at night, the sweat drying on their bare bodies, his voice, warm and low in her ear, _I love you, I love you, Claire Dearing, I love every hair, every freckle, every inch of you inside and out._

Karen didn’t know how it felt when Claire turned to find Owen looking at her, _only_ her, as if she was the only person on earth, and feeling so loved that it filled Claire _up, up, up,_ so full that she felt she might burst.

Karen didn’t know any of that, so when she warn Claire that Owen would lose interest, or that it couldn’t last like this forever, Claire caught Owen’s eye as he winked at her across the room, and let it slide in one ear and out the other).

“Maybe it was too soon to date after the divorce? Maybe they’re just rebelling because they hate the idea that I’m dating anyone?” Karen asked.

“Maybe,” Claire answered, unsure. They weren’t those type of kids. They really _weren’t_.

“You don’t believe that,” Karen accused lightly, and Claire sighed, twisting her ring around her finger.

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “But I do know that we’re happy to have them here, and they can stay for as long as they need to.” It was Karen’s turn to sigh on the other end.

“I want them home,” she told Claire, and Claire’s heart broke for both her sister and her nephews, and then she felt guilty for not knowing that it had gotten to this point. She and Owen were wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in their life and their happiness, and Claire had taken her sister’s word for it when Karen told her they were all doing fine. She had accepted Zach’s one word answers and Gray’s shrugs when they Facetimed and she asked if they were okay. She knew something was going on, something just below the surface, but she hadn’t pushed. It had been easier to believe that everything was fine.

And that stopped now.

“Okay,” Claire said, taking a deep breath and forming a plan. “This is what I’m suggesting. Let the boys stay here for at least the week. Owen and I will try to talk to them, find out what’s really happening. And then we’ll go from there.”

“They’re _my_ kids,” Karen argued, but her voice lacked any real anger.

“I know that,” Claire said softly. “But let them have this week.” She held her breath until she heard Karen’s shaky sigh on the other end.

“Okay,” Karen agreed.

“Okay,” Claire repeated. “Okay.”


	3. We can't leave it alone

“We saw a _shark_ ,” was the first thing out of Gray’s mouth when her three boys trooped in hours later. “It was _huge_ , Aunt Claire!” Claire raised an eyebrow in the direction of her husband, who clamped a hand down on Gray’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t _that_ big,” Owen argued. Behind him, Zach shook his head emphatically.

“It was huge,” he echoed his brother’s words.

“It only looked big because it was _far_ away. Far away. It wasn’t close _at all_ ,” Owen tried to placate his wife.

“Yes it was!” Gray insisted. “It nearly swam up right past Uncle Owen. It was close enough that he could touch it!”

“You are not helping,” Owen gritted out between a tight, closed mouth smile.

“Uh-huh,” Claire crossed her arms over her chest, but the smile tugging at the corners of her lips gave her away. “I thought we said no more brushes with death involving large, predatory animals?” This was said with a smirk, as Owen's job at the zoo required him to deal with large, predatory animals on a near daily basis and had been the source of quite the fight when he first took the job.

At the time, both had been plagued with nightmares that kept them up at night, and Claire was spending her days writing condolences and doling out wrongful death settlements and the weight of it, _of all that death_ , hung heavily on her. The idea that Owen could go to work and not come home was a real possibility that she was in no position at the time to confront. Not on top of everything else she was trying to deal with, process.

"I don't want to worry every day if you're going to come home to me," Claire had said, and it was the fear he could hear in her voice that had him almost saying no.

To Owen's surprise, in the end it had been Claire who had relented.

"It makes you happy," she finally conceded, "and I want you to be happy."

"I'll come home," he promised. "I'll _always_ come home."

“Calling it a brush with death is a little bit of an exaggeration,” Owen held up both hands. “It simply swam past me.” He crossed to where she was standing and slid his hands onto her hips, leaning in to brush a kiss to her lips. “And we’re here, so no need to retroactively worry. We’ve still got all of our limbs.”

“And other than the shark, how was surfing?” Claire asked, as Owen moved to lean on the counter next to her, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

“Zach was a natural,” Owen reported, and neither adult missed the way Zach flushed, ducking his head, a small, pleased smile ghosting across his face.

“That’s great!” Claire exclaimed.

“How was your day here?” Owen asked, bumping his hip into hers.

“It was fine, got some work done,” Claire shrugged. “And I talked to your mom, guys.” Both boys’ heads snapped up to look at her, their tension palpable,and she jumped in immediately to reassure them. “We talked and thought it might be nice for you two to spend the week here.” They both seemed to sag in relief, Gray darting over and throwing his arms around his aunt’s waist.

“That’s so cool!” He exclaimed. “Can we go surfing again tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Owen answered, ruffing Gray’s hair. “Maybe we can even convince your Aunt Claire to come down to the beach with us.”

“Maybe,” Claire agreed easily. “As long as we all stay away from sharks.”  

* * *

Claire crawled into bed next to Owen that night, and rested her head on his chest. It was the first time all day they had been alone, and she let out a contented sigh. In her bed, Owen's arms wrapped tightly around her, was one of her very favorite places to be. Things seemed better, _easier_ , less complicated when she was curled up next to him.

“You don’t mind, right? That I offered to have them here all week?” Claire tilted her head to look up at him, and he shook his head.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he insisted. She nodded, settling back down, and he dropped a hand into her hair, scraping his fingers lightly against her scalp. “Karen okay with them staying?”

“Okay might be a tad strong,” Claire admitted. “She’s upset that they came all the way out here. She keeps telling me that nothing is wrong, that Pete is great, she thought the boys liked him.” She shrugged lightly, and he tucked a kiss into her hair.

“She really thought the boys liked him?” Owen asked dubiously.

“Tolerated him at least,” Claire amended. She paused, drawing a circle with her finger into his bare skin, before looking back up at him. "Did they say anything to you? About him? About what's going on?"

"Eh," Owen ran a hand over his face. "Not really. I got the impression that they _really_ don't like him." Owen could feel her body tense underneath his hands, and he tightened his hold on her. "We've got all week to figure out what's going on." Claire made a noncommittal noise, and Owen's hand stilled in her hair. "What else is going on?"

"I feel a little like I dropped the ball," she admitted. "And you know how much I _hate_ dropping the ball."

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Claire let out a long sigh. “I promised them that I wouldn't drop off the face of the earth again.”

“You talk to your sister _all_ the time,” Owen pointed out. “You have a standing Thursday night Facetime with Gray which you _never_ miss unless something is going on. You talk to Zach at least once a week, sometimes more. You have not dropped off the face of the earth.”

“I also had no idea that things were as bad as they were,” she shot back.

“You don't _know_ how bad things are,” Owen reminded her gently. “The boys could be overreacting.”

“You don't believe that,” Claire said, propping herself up on an elbow to look at him. “I know that you don't believe that.” It was Owen's turn to sigh.

“You're right,” he admitted. “I don't actually believe that.”

“They're good kids,” Claire murmured, as she laid back down on top of him.

“What do you know about this Pete guy?” Owen asked, and Claire shrugged.

“Just what Karen told me. He's an accountant, for God's sake, divorced, no kids. She said he's from the east coast somewhere, I don't remember now. Nothing she told me brought up red flags. He seems harmless, boring, but harmless.”

“Not everyone can marry ex-raptor trainers,” had been what Karen had said when Claire had gotten caught up on the fact that he was an accountant. And she had a fair point, Claire could admit that, but Pete seemed, by her sister's description, an average, run of the mill, kind of a blah, guy. Not the kind whose presence would push her nephews into stealing his credit card to book flights in the middle of the night.

"We'll figure it out," Owen reassured her. "But," he tucked a kiss into her hair, "we should probably get to sleep. We've got two kids for the week, we're going to need all the energy we can get."

* * *

When Claire woke the next morning, she slipped out from under Owen's arm, leaving him sprawled face down on the bed. She grabbed her robe and headed down to the kitchen where she was surprised to find Gray already awake, a book propped up in front of him.

"Morning Aunt Claire," he chirped when she stepped in the room.

"Morning sweetie," she dropped a kiss to the top of his head before making a beeline to the coffee pot. "Zach still asleep?"

"Yep," Gray answered. "Mom says if sleeping was an Olympic sport, Zach would win gold." Claire chuckled, reaching for a mug. He glanced up at his aunt through his bangs. "Was Uncle Owen serious about going surfing again? Because sometimes I know things come up. Work and stuff." Gray's demeanor was all practiced nonchalance and Claire was suddenly furious with her ex-brother-in-law. She bit down hard on her lip to stop from saying anything negative about Gray's dad, even though there were more than few choice words she could have used to describe him. Karen's ex husband had practically dropped off the planet since the divorce was finalized, and it made Claire's heart break for both the boys. 

"Of course he's serious about going surfing again," Claire insisted. "We cleared our schedules today."

"You're coming too?" Gray lit up, and Claire nodded emphatically.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Claire told him. She paused, looking at him thoughtfully, before asking, "You hungry? Why don't we go get breakfast? I know this place that makes _great_ omelets."

"Shouldn't we wait for Zach and Uncle Owen?" Gray asked uncertainly. Claire waved away his concern.

"They could be asleep for _hours_ , I'm hungry now," and she was rewarded with a wide grin from Gray. "Go get changed. I'll leave a note and then we'll go." Gray bounced out of his seat and took off like a shot up the stairs. Claire took a long drink of her coffee before following herself.

Owen was still spread out like a starfish in the middle of the bed, and she leaned down and dropped a kiss to his bare shoulder. He stirred slightly, turning his face to her with his eyes still closed.

"Good morning," she breathed into his warm skin. "Gray and I are going to get breakfast. We'll be back."

"Mmmkay," he mumbled. "Bring me back some bacon." She laughed lightly, brushing a kiss to his forehead. She changed quickly, throwing on some clothes and grabbing her purse and sunglasses, making it downstairs to find Gray already waiting.

"You ready, kiddo?" She asked, grabbing the car keys from the bowl on the front table. "Breakfast awaits."

* * *

Owen stumbled out of bed a little while later, nearly colliding with Zach in the hallway.

"Morning," Owen said, and Zach grunted what Owen suspected was a greeting in response.

"Where'd Aunt Claire and Gray go?" Zach asked, and Owen scratched his head.

"I vaguely remember your aunt saying something about taking Gray to get something to eat," he shrugged. "You hungry? I can't make pancakes like Claire, but I toast a mean bagel." Owen started down the stairs, turning to look at Zach loping behind him, and grinned. "Plus I told your aunt to bring home bacon. I should send her a reminder. Come back with bacon or don't come back at all!"  Zach stopped suddenly on the stairs, his hand stilling on the railing.

"You wouldn't _actually_ be angry though, right? If she didn't, I mean," Zach's voice was uncertain and there were alarm bells going off in Owen's head, but he decided he needed to tread carefully.

"No,” Owen answered immediately and firmly. “It would be a joke, and I'm sure I'd get some smart ass response from her.” There was a beat of silence, and then the tension was broken by Zach grinning widely, probably thinking about his Aunt Claire's sharp tongue, and he continued down the stairs.

“I hope she remembers the bacon,” Zach said as he passed. “And they're back soon. I'm starving.”

Owen trailed Zach into the kitchen, and thought about the catch in Zach's voice when he asked, the way that he froze when he thought about Owen being upset with Claire over something so _trivial_. He had been actually worried that Owen might be actually angry with his aunt.

Owen had learned to trust his instinct long before, and his instincts were telling him that whatever sent the boys packing, it wasn't good.

It wasn't good at all.


	4. Some may use their judgment

“Was your plan to divide and conquer?” Owen asked when Claire and Gray came back from breakfast. Claire dropped the to-go container of bacon on the counter and shrugged.

“It was worth a try,” she said, as Owen dipped his head to steal a kiss. “I brought you bacon. How many wife points do I get for that?” He kissed her again, tasting the slightest hint of maple syrup on her lips.

“So many,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Speaking of dividing and conquering,” she pulled back slightly. “Did you get anywhere with Zach?” Owen let out an involuntary sigh, and Claire tensed under his hands. “What?”

“I hope I'm wrong,” he started. “It's just...did Gray say anything to you about Pete getting angry? With your sister? With either of them?” Claire swallowed, and bit down hard on her lip.

“You think...” She couldn't say the words. Saying the words would make it _real,_ would give substance to the dark thought that was forming in the back of her mind.

“I don't know, sweetheart,” Owen's voice was gentle. Claire shook her head, and stumbled back away from him, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No,” she breathed out, and the sound was more liquid than solid.

“Claire,” he tried. “We don't know anything for sure.”

“What did Zach say?” She asked, her voice borderline accusatory, and Owen knew that she wasn't angry with him, but her tone was sharp and still stung. “What makes you think that?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged helplessly. “I was joking around about sending you a message that said come back with bacon or don't come back at all, and he got really worried that I was serious about being angry with you.” Claire was biting down so hard on her lip that he could see she was drawing blood. “I don't know anything concrete, hon, it's just a gut feeling.” She dropped her eyes to the floor, and he could see her let out a sigh that broke his heart.

“Your gut feelings are usually pretty good,” she let out a shaky sigh, and let her hands drop to her sides. Owen reached up and wiped at the drop of blood on her lip with his thumb.

“We don't know anything for sure,” he repeated.

“Gray's jumpy,” Claire replied. “And he was cagey when I asked him any questions, and that's not _like_ him, he's usually an open book.”

She was biting down again on her lip, and the blood was welling up again, and _Jesus_ how hard had she bitten down? Seeing the blood on her lip, seeing how upset she was made him want to hit something or _someone_ hard. Preferably Karen's shithead boyfriend, and he recognized that he didn't know _definitively_ that something was happening, but at the moment he didn't _care_ because Claire looked like she was holding on by a thread, and Gray _was_ being jumpy, not to mention the way that Zach had reacted to a _joke_ and not a good one at that.

“And Zach doesn't do that,” Claire continued. “He _knows_ how to take a joke.”

Owen knew his wife, knew her well enough to know that she was moving quickly past the upset phase into the anger phase. She was starting to pace in their kitchen, and he was suddenly hyper aware that the boys were just a room away, Gray showing Zach the game that he sweet talked Claire into stopping after breakfast and buying for them. The last thing he wanted was for those two to stumble into the kitchen and witness Claire's ire. He knew if what he thought was going on was actually going on they were going to have to tread carefully with the boys.

Angry Claire, he knew from intimate experience, did not tread carefully. She bulldozed.

“Babe,” he used the most gentle voice he could, approaching her the same way he would have approached one of the raptors, all soothing tones and caution. He placed his hands on her shoulders, boxing her in. “This isn't the time to do this, the boys are just in the other room.”

Mentioning the boys did the trick, and relief washed over him when Claire deflated, once again wrapping her arms around herself.

His celebration was premature, because a half of a second later, Gray came bounding into the kitchen, and spotted Claire with her arms around herself, the small smear of blood on her lips, and Owen with his hands on her shoulders. And he realized with a sinking feeling what it _could_ look like.

“Don't be mad at her! It was my fault!” Gray cried out. At the sound of his brother's distressed voice, Zach came tearing around the corner to the doorway, jumping to the same conclusion that Gray had.

“You said you wouldn't be actually...you were _kidding_ , you _said_ , you said you weren't angry...” Zach stammered, unable to get the sentence all the way out, his eyes darting from Owen to Claire and back.

“No,” Claire stepped back away from her husband, Owen's hands dropping uselessly to his sides. He knew that it needed to be Claire who explained. “No, we're not fighting.” Neither boy looked convinced. “We're _not_ , guys.”

“You're bleeding,” Zach said flatly.

“I bit down on my lip too hard,” Claire replied. “I have a bad habit of chewing on my bottom lip when I'm thinking about something.” Zach didn't look sold, but to Owen's great relief, he seemed to relax ever so slightly. She reached out and grabbed Owen's hand, tangling their fingers together. “We weren't fighting, honest. It's okay, okay? We're okay.”

“I would _never_ hurt your aunt,” Owen spoke up. “ _Never_.” God, he couldn't imagine laying a hand on Claire, not even when she infuriated him (which was _often._ Bickering was foreplay for the two of them, and a fired-up Claire, all flushed with anger and righteous indignation, was a _huge_ turn on). But the thought of hurting her, of _wanting_ to hurt her, makes him feel shaky and slightly ill. 

“He wouldn't,” Claire chimed in. “I promise you, he's never hurt me, and I know he  _ wouldn't _ .”

“Yeah,” Zach let out a shaky breath. “Right, of course. We're just being stupid.” 

“Yeah,” Gray echoed. “Stupid.” There was a moment of tense silence, before Claire pasted on what Owen knew was her most reassuring, fake smile. 

“Why don't you boys go change for the beach?” She suggested.

“Okay, yeah,” Zach moved first, glancing between Owen and Claire one more time before turning on his heel and heading up the stairs. Gray was a little slower to go, a frown on his face, before he nodded, following his brother. 

At the sound of their footfalls on the stairs, Claire collapsed against Owen, and he tugged her, trembling, into his arms. She buried her face in his shirt as she sobbed. He could only make out every other word at first, and he was torn between letting her get it out and trying to calm her down. The last thing they needed was for the boys to come back down and see her this upset. He didn't know what to do, so he just held her, carding his fingers through her hair and brushed featherlight kisses to the crown of her head.   


A few awful minutes passed before Claire's sobs died down, her voice catching as she said, 

“It's true, oh God, it's true.” 


	5. Some will use their wisdom

It was tense.

There was no sugarcoating it. After the boys came back into the kitchen to find Owen with his arms wrapped around Claire, her eyes rimmed red, there was palpable tension. Claire cleared her throat and stepped away from her husband, and Gray immediately crossed to where she stood, tethering himself to Claire, standing so close that if she moved even slightly, she stumbled into him. Zach kept glancing between his aunt and uncle trying to work out if he had been right or wrong about Owen. Claire began using a voice that Owen had never heard from her before, all forced cheerfulness and deranged tones.

“Hey guys,” she cleared her throat, and then pasted on a wide smile. “We’ll just go get changed. Give us five minutes, okay?” Claire tugged Owen out of the kitchen, and up the stairs.

“Shit,” he breathed out the second their bedroom was closed behind them. He sunk down onto the bed, and buried his head in his hands.

“Hey,” Claire’s voice was firm, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. He recognized that voice. That was her boss voice. Her Senior Assets Manager voice. The trembling and sobbing Claire from only moments earlier was gone. Standing in front of him was the woman who had lured a t-rex with nothing but a flare in her hand. Her back was straightened, her eyes narrowed, and her tone unemotional and brooking no arguments. “We’re going to have a fucking _nice_ day, okay? We’re going to go to the beach, we’re going to have a good time, and we’re going to deal with this, _but not right now._ Those boys deserve a nice day, and then we’ll deal with everything else. With Pete and Karen. Okay?” Her voice broke on her sister’s name, but she wouldn’t allow herself to think about it at the moment. If she started thinking about it, she would start to weep and she might never stop.

Owen was quiet, looking down at his hands and twisting his wedding band around his finger. She walked over and stood between his legs, resting her hands on his shoulders as he looked up at her.

“Okay?” Claire repeated. She gave his shoulders a squeeze.

“Okay,” he echoed. She leaned down and kissed him, and then stood up and squared her shoulders as if she was going into battle. Claire was about to disappear into the closet to change for the beach when Owen stopped her, grabbing her hand, and she spun around to face him. “I just...I need you to know that I would never hurt you. I know you know that, but I want you to _know._ ” 

“Oh sweetheart,” Claire breathed. “I know.” She launched herself at him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and he was half afraid that she was going to break down again, but she was made of strong stuff, his wife, and she let herself cling to him for only another moment before pulling back and giving him a shaky smile. “Now let’s go. The boys are waiting for us.”

* * *

 

When they arrived at the beach, Claire set a blanket out, parked herself in the sand, and smiled up at them.

“You guys go into the water, I'm going to stay here,” she announced.

“You aren't coming in?” Gray asked, and Owen let out a bark of laughter which caused his wife's eyes to narrow.

“Yeah right, kid,” Owen laughed. “Despite living next to the ocean,your aunt doesn't actually _like_ the water.”

“I will have you know that I was butterfly stroke champion in the fourth grade,” Claire replied indignantly.

“And you haven't been in the water since,” Owen shot back, nudging her foot with his.

“I decided to retire at my prime,” Claire told him primly.

“I'll stay here with Aunt Claire,” Gray immediately offered, dropping down next to her.

“You can go in the water,” Claire gave him a reassuring smile. “I'm used to hanging out on the shore while Owen surfs. I brought a book.”

“No, no, I don't want to go in the water, I'll just stay here,” Gray insisted, and Claire and Owen shared a silent exchange before Claire shrugged nearly imperceptibly.

“Well, in that case, looks like it's just me and you, kid,” Owen clapped Zach on the shoulder, and it was subtle, it was _so_ subtle, but not so subtle that Claire didn't notice Zach flinch. She felt something like anger start to bubble up inside of her, and she tamped down on it.

_Don't ruin today. Let them have today. Today will be nice._

“Don't get attacked by any sharks,” Claire warned. “I'm not going to be happy if I have to come into that water to rescue you.” Owen snorted, dropping down to a crouch so that he could give her a kiss.

“I'll do my best,” he smirked, leaning in to steal a kiss.

“Have fun,” Claire called as he and Zach grabbed the surfboards and headed to the water. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and watched as they climbed onto the boards and paddled out farther, and she could tell, from the slope of his shoulders, the way his head dipped down slightly, that Zach was still wary.

Owen was good with skittish animals, and hopefully that translated into being good with skittish teenagers.

If Owen could work his magic on Zach, that left Gray to her. She needed to convince him that he was safe there, with them, and that she was going to fix things. She wasn't sure _how_ , but she just needed some time to think about it, figure out a solution. Problem solving was her forte. She needed to know exactly what was going on, and her fingers itched to dial her sister's number, call her up, demand to know what was happening.

Claire hated not knowing what was happening. Hated not being in control.

“Aunt Claire?” Gray's voice interrupted her brooding, and she turned to look at him, brushing back some of his curls that had fallen into his face.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Are you...I mean,” he huffed out a sigh. “Do you and Uncle Owen fight a lot?”

Claire could answer honestly. _Oh yes. We do. We fight constantly. Really, it's foreplay for us._ But instead, she pasted on what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and shook her head.

“Not really, bud,” she lied. “We try to talk things out.” If Owen was around to hear her answer, she would be graced with that shit-eating smirk of his, and a coughed “ _liar_ ,” under his breath. She would glare back at him, and it would probably, honestly, start an argument.

But she had a sinking feeling that her and Owen's arguments and Karen's arguments with Pete weren't the same. Not judging by the concerned look she caught on Gray's face, his eyebrows sloping down, before he turned his face away from her, fiddling instead with the corner of the blanket and refusing to meet her eye.

She didn't want to do this today, she wanted to give the boys a nice day, a day where they didn't have to think about it, but she knew that had flown out the window the second they had stumbled into the kitchen and jumped to erroneous conclusions. And that was her fault, for forgetting that she and Owen weren't alone in the house. And god _damn_ it, the day had started out so great.

Claire swallowed hard, and reached out to place a gentle hand on Gray's arm.

“Gray?” He still wouldn't meet her eye, instead, using his fingertip, he began to draw circles in the sand. “Sweetheart? I really need to know what's going on.”

And to her horror, he burst into tears.

“He _yells_ ,” Gray sobbed. “He gets so angry, and then Mom cries. She just cries and she thinks that we can't hear her, but we _can,_ and why does she let him stay there? Why does she let him yell at her?” Claire gaped at him for moment, unable to make herself move, before she unfroze and tugged him into her arms, rocking him back and forth as he buried his wet face in her collarbone.

“I don't know, Gray, I don't know,” she murmured.

“We came here because you can fix _anything_ ,” he confessed, tipping his head up to look at her, and she was overwhelmed by his belief in her.She dropped a kiss into his hair.

“It'll be okay,” she promised, and hoped, _God she hoped,_ she was right.

* * *

There was no time like the present.

Owen knew that his wife wanted the boys to have a good day, a fun, carefree day, but he also knew that was a fucking pipe dream. He was willing to face the wrath of Claire in order to get to the bottom of what was happening. The sooner they knew, they sooner they could try to figure out how to help.

(He knew she would want to _fix_ things, and he wasn't sure if that was even possible. Claire was capable of many things, but he wasn't sure even _she_ could fix what was wrong. He was taking a more realistic approach. They could try to help in whatever way they could, but he wasn't sure if it could be _fixed_.)

“So,” Owen started. They were taking a break, sitting on their boards and paddling to keep in place. He took a deep breath, and decided to just be honest and blunt. Zach was almost an adult, time to treat him like one. “Things aren't so great at home, are they?” Zach's head whipped around so quickly that he nearly lost his balance and tumbled into the water.

“We told you why we came here,” Zach said, his tone and posture defensive. “It wasn't a big deal, it was us being stupid. Everything's fine. Pete's fine. My mom's fine. We're fine.”

“I might have believed you,” Owen replied, his voice gentle. “If you hadn't used fine four times.” Zach seemed to deflate. “What's really going on?”

“He gets so angry,” Zach mumbled, and Owen could see his fists clenching at his side. “With my mom, with Gray.”

“And with you?” Owen asked softly.

“I can take it,” Zach exclaimed. “But I'm leaving for school in the fall, and then what? My mom keeps telling me that I'm blowing things out of proportion, but I see the bruises! I hear her crying. And I can't do anything about it!” He punched the board with his fist, and then his shoulders slumped. “I can't do anything! I promised Gray that nothing would happen to him while I was around. I _promised_. And _I can't do anything_.”

Owen was so in over his head. He wished he would have waited until Claire was there. She would know what to say.

_Divide and conquer, great plan Grady._

“Hey,” Owen finally said, reaching out and placing a hand on Zach's heaving shoulders. “You're not alone, okay? Your aunt and I are here, and we know now, and we're not going to let him get away with this, okay? We stick together, that's what we do. That's what we've done since that damn island. We're going to stick together through this too, got it? _You are not alone_.”

He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say, but Zach nodded and maybe Owen was imagining things, but it seemed like a little bit of the weight of the world had been lifted off of Zach's shoulders.


	6. Me, I use my gut

 It seemed once they started talking, Gray and Zach couldn’t stop, and Claire and Owen began to piece together the chain of events.

Pete started out fine. _Nice_ , even. Took them all to dinner, lavished gifts on Karen, even drove an hour and a half to take the boys to a Brewers game. He filled the space that Scott had left, and for a while everything was fine.

And then.

Then things started to shift. There were fights between he and Karen, little things setting him off. But these were mostly behind closed doors. They would hear her hiss at him to keep his voice down so as to not upset the boys. Tension settled into the house, filling up the cracks and making it unbearable. Karen thought she was keeping it from them, and pasted on fake smiles and Pete still brought them over gifts, called them “champ,” he still put on a good show.

Until dinner one night when Gray was excitedly talking about something or another he had learned that day, his hands flying around gesturing wildly, and he knocked over his glass of milk. Pete exploded, flipping the dining room table over, sending plates and food flying, Gray’s empty glass careering across the room and hitting the baseboard of the wall with a thud. Pete stormed out of the room, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

The fights were no longer hidden, and soon he’d yell at Gray, at Zach. And Zach yelled back at first, until he figured out the correlation between the times he stood up to Pete and the bruises that would appear on his mother’s pale skin.

“Everything is fine,” Karen kept repeating, whether to convince herself or her sons, they weren’t sure.

“Let’s call Aunt Claire,” Zach kept suggesting. Aunt Claire would fix it. She and Uncle Owen would come sweeping in, and _everything_ would be better.

“No, please,” Karen looked so stricken. “They’re newlyweds, Zach. They don’t need to be bothered. Especially not when there’s nothing going on. Everything is _fine._ ”

Gray would sneak into Zach’s room when the fights were shaking the walls of the house, and finally, during one of these times, Zach glanced over to Gray trembling and decided that enough was enough. He reached over and grabbed his phone, pulling up to see when the next flight out of Madison was.

“What are you doing?” Gray whispered, his eyes widening.

“Getting us the hell out of here,” Zach muttered. The house had fallen silent, and he snuck out of his bedroom and down the stairs to where he knew Pete left his wallet. Avoiding the second to third step from the bottom because it creaked, he carefully grabbed a credit card from the back and slipped back up the stairs.

It was thrilling, slipping out of the house and into the idling cab, the house getting smaller and smaller as they drove away. Gray clutched at Zach’s hand, sure they were going to get caught, only relaxing once the plane had taken off.

“Aunt Claire will know what to do, right?” Gray kept asking, and Zach agreed, because Gray looked so hopeful and Zach was out of other ideas.  

“Absolutely,” he said. “Absolutely. Aunt Claire will know what to do.”

* * *

 

 When Claire finally climbed into bed that night, she was exhausted.

She figured she had done enough crying in the past few hours to last her for quite some time, weeping silently as Zach and Gray told them what had been happening. She never interrupted, just listened, Gray’s hand tucked in one of hers, Owen’s arm around her shoulder, her free hand resting on Zach’s knee. Just as on the island, they were a unit, a team, the four of them against the world.

Owen slid under the covers behind her, immediately pulling her to him and burying his face in her hair.

“Jesus,” he breathed out.

“What do we do?” Claire asked in a hushed voice. Owen didn’t know, so he didn’t answer, but thinking about what Pete put Karen through, put those boys through, was enough to send his blood pressure skyrocketing. Hell, making Claire cry was reason enough _alone_ to want to kill the guy. Owen never knew what to do with a broken Claire. An angry Claire, he could handle, but a weeping Claire was one of his downfalls.

Just thinking about having to hold his wife as she cried made him see red.

“I’m going to call Karen tomorrow,” Claire said softly. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. Her mind was going a million miles an hour, he recognized that look on her face. She was in plan-making mode. “She’s going to lie to me, I know she will. I think we might have to go there, to her?” She turned in his arms so that she could look at him. “I’m going to see if I can clear the rest of the week.” She frowned slightly, and he could see the wheels turning. “Maybe I should just fly out there alone? You can stay here with the boys?” Owen’s blood turned cold, and he shook his head.

“Absolutely not, _no_ ,” he answered firmly. He was _not_ about to stand back and watch Claire fly to Madison alone to enter a potentially dangerous situation. _No_.

They had no idea what this man would do when confronted, no idea the violence he was capable of. Claire was strong, she could handle herself, but _fuck that_ , the risks were too high. _No, no, no._

The thought of her facing that asshole alone was enough to make Owen feel sick. 

“Owen, I don't know if the boys...” she started, and he shook his head vehemently.

“Claire, we stick together,” he insisted. “The four of us do much better when we all stick together.” For a moment he thought she would argue, but she swallowed hard and nodded instead.

“Okay, then,” she replied. “We all go together.”  She turned back and tugged on his arms so they were more firmly wrapped around, and he was more than happy to oblige.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured, trying to calm down his own racing heart. He had an image of Claire, scared and bruised, that he couldn't shake out of his head.

 _Stop thinking about that,_ he scolded himself. _She's fine. She's here, in your arms, and she's fine._

And she was going to stay that way. She was going to _stay_ fine, the boys were going to be fine, his sister-in-law was going to be fine, because there was no other option. Owen wouldn't entertain any other possibility.

* * *

  
It was still early when Claire dialed Karen's number. It was really early in San Diego, less so in Madison, and her sister was clearly surprised to see Claire calling.

“Claire? It's so early, is everything okay? Are the boys okay?”

Claire had run through a script as to what to say to her sister. They were worried, could Karen come there? Claire would buy the ticket. The boys were concerned, Claire and Owen were concerned. They would do whatever Karen needed them to do.

But what came out instead was,

“Oh Karen, I'm coming, okay? I'm getting on a plane and I'm coming.”

“What did the boys say?” Karen asked immediately, her voice wary. Claire closed her eyes, gripping the phone so tightly that her fingers ached.

“They said he hurts you,” Claire's voice was small, and she heard the sound of her sister's breath catch in her throat.

“I'm fine,” Karen replied, and Claire had to wonder who she was trying to convince.

“Karen...” Claire began, and then her sister broke, her sobs coming down over the line, and Claire immediately reached for her laptop, pulling up the site for the airline, looking for the first flight out. She'd leave Zach here in charge of Gray. They would be okay for a couple of days. Zach was almost an adult, he could watch out for his brother while Owen and Claire flew to Madison.

“I'm fine,” Karen repeated.

“Come here,” Claire tried, “I'll buy the ticket, okay? I'll get you on the next flight out of Madison.”

“No,” Karen answered, the sound more liquid than solid. “No, I'm fine, Claire. Honestly. I have it under control. Things were bad for a while, but they're better now. The boys are overreacting.”

It was how she had expected the conversation to go, but it still broke Claire's heart, and she finished booking the tickets for her and Owen as Karen babbled on about how they were fine, everything was fine.

Claire didn't argue with her. She knew it was useless. She didn't tell Karen they were coming, instead she allowed her sister to change the subject.

“They're good kids, but they're blowing things way out of proportion,” Karen tried to convince Claire one last time before they hung up. Claire made a noncommittal noise, before hitting end on the call, and resting her head on the cool surface of the kitchen table as she tried to calm herself down.

She heard footsteps behind her, and then the feel of Owen's hand on her back.

“I'm guessing the conversation didn't go so well?” He asked, sliding his hand along her back as he dropped into the chair next to hers.

“No,” Claire answered without lifting her head. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she finally sat up, meeting his eye. “I booked the two of us tickets out there. I figured the boys could stay here. I don't...I don't think it's a good idea to bring them.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he reached up and ran his thumb over her lip.

He didn't tell her that if he had things his way, _she_ wouldn't be going either. But he knew his wife. He could only _imagine_ how that would go over if he suggested it. 

“Okay,” he said simply, picking up her hand and tangling their fingers. “When do we leave?” 


	7. My gut don't lie to me

The boys weren’t pleased about being left behind, but Claire would not be swayed.

“We’re getting on a plane, flying there, getting your mom, and flying back,” Claire said firmly. “And you two don’t need to be there. Soak up some sun.” She started to leave the kitchen to go pack, but turned around and narrowed her eyes at Zach. “And I’m taking my credit card and Uncle Owen’s wallet upstairs with me, so don’t even _think_ about booking a flight yourself.”

Their flight was in four hours, so Claire threw things in a bag for her and Owen, while he ran to the grocery store with the boys. She was unsurprised when he was talked into also buying a new PlayStation game for them as a consolation prize.

“Sucker,” she smirked when he walked into their bedroom, after Gray excitedly shouted up to her about their new game.

“Like you didn’t _just_ let Gray sweet talk his way into a new game a few days ago,” Owen rolled his eyes, throwing himself down on the bed next to the half packed suitcase. “By the way, I also spent a small fortune at the grocery store. If we ever have boys, I’m going to have to get a second job in order to feed them.”  Claire laughed lightly, nudging him with her knee to get him up off the bed.

Even before Gray and Zach showed up unexpectedly on their doorstep, the topic of kids had been heavily discussed in recent weeks. Claire had hedged, first insisting that they needed more time just the two of them, and then finally admitting to Owen that she was terrified she would be a terrible mother.

“What if they _hate_ me?” She confessed one night as they were sharing a carton of lo mein on the couch. Claire passed it back to Owen after taking another bite, their feet propped up on the coffee table, and a bottle of wine half empty in front of them.

“They won’t,” he reassured, slurping a noodle.

“I didn’t know my own nephews’ ages,” she argued, accepting the carton back and spearing the noodles with more force than might have been necessary. “I’ve never been a kid kind of person.” He plucked the food out of her hands then glanced over at her, and noticed that she was _actually_ concerned. Her eyebrows were sloping down, and she was fiddling with her wedding ring, something that she only did when she was anxious about something. He leaned forward to put the lo mein on the coffee table, and tugged her onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“They’re going to be the luckiest kids in the whole fucking world,” he murmured into her warm skin, placing a kiss at her pulse point. “And if you don’t want to have kids, I can’t say I wouldn’t be disappointed, but I have you, and you’re _everything_. If it’s just you and me forever? That’s still more than enough.”

It had been his belief in her, so certain and unwavering, that had her agreeing to add kids to the three year plan.

“Don’t just do it for me,” Owen insisted, but the truth was that once she started thinking about it, a little boy with Owen’s eyes, or a little girl with his smile, she _did_ want them. Not just for his sake. But because _she_ wanted them.

“Check over the suitcase, make sure I grabbed whatever you would need,” Claire instructed her husband, offering her hand to pull him off the bed. “We need to leave soon.”

“The boys are still campaigning hard to come with us,” Owen warned. “I think they’re gearing up for a last ditch effort to get you to agree. They’re going to come at you with everything they’ve got.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Claire scoffed, tossing a grin over her shoulder as she headed down the stairs.

Just as Owen had warned, both Zach and Gray were waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her, matching serious looks on their faces.

“Can we talk?” Zach asked. “We want to lay out the reasons that you should take us with you.” Claire sighed, and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in irritation.

“Okay,” she agreed, letting them lead her into the kitchen.

“Please,” Gray gestured to the table. “Sit.” Claire frowned slightly, but did as she was told. The boys stood above her, arms crossed over their chests, and they looked so solemn that half of her wanted to laugh, the other half wanted to pull them into her arms and reassure them that everything would be fine. She wouldn’t let it be anything other than fine.

“First, it’s _our_ mother,” Zach started. “And she might listen to us better than she’ll listen to you.” The thought had occurred to Claire that Karen might be persuaded by her sons instead of her sister, but the fact remained that Claire wasn’t about to use the boys as leverage to get her sister to agree.

There was also the promise that Claire had made to both her sister and herself that she would never put those two in harm’s way again, and it was a promise she intended to keep.

“Second,” Gray spoke up. “It’s just plain unfair to leave us behind.”

“Third,” Zach continued, and then shrugged. “That’s about it. She’s our mother and it’s unfair. That should be enough.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” Claire said, climbing to her feet, “but the answer is still no. We’re going to hopefully be back here by _tomorrow,_ and I can focus my attention on your mother a lot better if I’m not also worried about you.”

“Aunt Claire,” Zach began, and Claire held up a hand to stop him.

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Now, show me this game that you conned your uncle into buying for you.” She clapped a hand on each of their shoulders, and pushed them in front of her towards the living room.

* * *

 

Owen was half convinced the boys had somehow hidden in the trunk of the car, and he checked it several times when they got to the airport.

"Just making sure there aren't any stowaways," he told Claire when she raised an eyebrow after he popped the trunk another time.

Claire had left the boys plenty of cash for the next few days, but no credit or debit cards.

"Burn me once," she had joked as she handed Zach the wad of cash. "We'll be back before you know it, okay?" He had glowered at her, but took the cash in her outstretched hand, and gave her a reluctant hug.

Once they were in the air, Claire stopped worrying about the boys and started worrying about what they were walking into instead.

“What if he's there?” Claire asked, making Owen go through every possible scenario and gauging the outcomes. “Do we ask to speak to her alone? Will that tip him off?” Claire wasn't worried about being rude to Pete, but she also didn't want to alert him to the fact that they knew about the abuse.

“I think we'll have to play it by ear,” Owen told her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I know you don't want to hear that, but that's probably what's going to have to happen.” Claire sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder and gazing past him out the window.

“He's a fucking accountant,” she muttered. “How did this happen?” Owen snorted, and then turned his head slightly to brush a kiss to her forehead.

“Too bad we're not on the island anymore,” he sighed. “We could have taken him to the raptor enclosure, had him meet the girls. You know, accidents happened up there all the time.” It was Claire's turn to bark out a laugh, and then she sobered just as quickly.

“What if she won't go?” She asked quietly, and tilted her head up to look at him.

“I don't know, baby,” he admitted. '”I don't know what we do.”

* * *

 

The gravel crunched under the tires of the rental car, and Owen could tell, by the way that Claire was twisting her ring around and around her finger, that she was becoming more nervous by the second.

“You're going to rub your skin raw,” he observed, reaching out and placing his hand over top of hers. She let out a shuddering sigh, but stopped her fidgeting. He parked in the driveway, and neither moved for a moment.

“We can do this,” Claire said under breath, and she turned and gave him a shaky smile. “We've faced _dinosaurs_ for God's sake.”

“This is a piece of cake in comparison,” Owen agreed, leaning across the car to give her a reassuring kiss. Claire pulled back, running her thumb over his lip and then squared her shoulders. 

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let's go.” 

They climbed out of the car, and as they made their way up the front porch, the door swung open and Karen was standing there, hands on her hips, her face flushed with anger. 

“I told you not to come here,” she exclaimed. “Where are the boys?”

“We left them in San Diego,” Claire said. “We need to talk.” 

“Who is it, Karen?” A male voice called from deep inside the house, and Claire's heart began to pound painfully against her ribcage. 

“Just the three of us, Karen. Just the _three_ of us need to talk,” Claire quickly added. 

“Claire,” Karen started, but was stopped from saying anything else by the sound of footsteps and the appearance of Pete. 

Claire wasn't sure what she expected, but Pete wasn't it. He was tall, nearly as tall as Owen, and Owen was _tall_. He was broad, with dark hair and dark eyes that flashed with irritation at the sight of Claire and Owen on the front porch. 

He was so much bigger than her sister, and Claire felt something hard growing in the pit of her stomach. She was angry, and admittedly  _scared_ , and she felt Owen reach out and grab her hand, giving it a squeeze, and gratitude washed over her. Thank God he had insisted on coming. 

“This is my sister, Claire,” Karen introduced. “And her husband, Owen.”

“What brings you all the way here?” Pete asked, in a tone that felt forced, and with a smile that felt insincere. “I thought the boys were staying with you?” 

“They were, they _are_ ,” Claire amended. “Can we...can we just come in?” 

“Yes, of course,” Karen said, stepping aside to let them in. She wrapped her arms around her sister, pulling her in for a hug, and hissing in her ear, “I said I was _fine,_ Claire. I can't _believe_ you.” Karen let go of Claire, and directed Owen to the upstairs bedroom to drop off their things. 

Owen paused, looking between his wife and Pete, clearly uncertain about leaving Claire alone with the two of them, but Claire was giving him a pointed look and then glanced at the stairs, and he finally obliged, moving towards the staircase. 

“Maybe Pete can show you where it is?” Karen finally suggested. “While Claire and I have some sister time?” Owen seemed to visibly relax, and Pete agreed easily. 

_He was so nice at first_ , Claire remembered Gray saying.  _He was so nice to us._

As soon as the men had trooped upstairs, Karen grabbed Claire's arm, tugging her into the living room.

“What in the _hell_ are you doing here?” Karen asked, her voice low.

“Did you really think I was just going to _leave_ you here? With _him_?” Claire gestured wildly. “Karen, I _know_ what's happening. The boys _know_ what's happening. You can't stay here. You can't stay with him.”

“You have no idea what you're talking about,” Karen shot back. “The boys are imagining things.”

“They are _not_ ,” Claire exclaimed. “Those two kids have their heads on straighter than anyone I've ever met. I was there with them, in a life and death situation, and not once, not _once_ did they lose their cool. I _believe_ them. If they say he's a bad guy, he's a _bad_ fucking guy. And _you_ deserve so much better, those boys deserve better.” There was a moment of tense silence, neither one saying anything or moving, until finally Karen shook her head.

“Claire,” Karen's voice broke. “He'll kill me.” And Claire's blood ran cold.

“ _No_ ,” Claire grabbed her sister's shoulders and turned Karen to face her. “That's why we're here. We'll pack a bag, we'll leave tonight. We'll file restraining orders, and I'll call in whatever favors I need to. We'll leave tonight.”

Claire was so focused on her sister, focused on keeping Karen calm, getting Karen out of there, that she never heard the sound of footsteps behind her. It wasn't until she heard Pete's voice, clear and certain, that she realized he had come back down.

She froze, terrified, at Karen's eyes widening, and the sound of his voice behind her, low and dangerous.

“No one's going anywhere.”


	8. May we take each other

_Where the hell was Owen_ ? Claire thought to herself, reaching and grabbing Karen’s hand and giving it a squeeze. She adopted her most intimidating pose, narrowing her eyes at Pete.

_I’m not afraid of you_ , she told herself. _You’re just a bully. I’ve faced worse than you before._

“Excuse me,” Claire said, her voice all steel and sharp edges. “I don’t believe I was speaking to you.” She heard the pounding of feet on stairs, as Owen burst breathlessly into the room, his eyes darting from Pete to his wife, unsure of what to do next. She could see him approach like he used to approach the paddock, calm, cautious.

Pete moved faster than she had expected, and in three short steps he had closed the gap between them, grabbing at Karen’s arm and tugging her away from Claire. Karen winced as his fingers closed around her wrist. And Owen moved just as fast, placing himself beside Claire instantly.

“And I don’t _believe_ ,” he replied. “That anyone asked you to come here and butt your nose into our business.”

“My sister, _my_ family, is my business,” Claire shot back, anger flashing in her eyes. “Let go of her.” She would _not_ let her voice shake, she kept her tone even and controlled.

 _You don’t scare me_.

“Claire,” Karen said. “Why don’t you just go?” Claire wheeled on her sister.

“Absolutely not,” she exclaimed, before turning her ire back on Pete. “I said let go of her.” She found Owen’s hand, and he gave hers a squeeze.

“Claire,” Karen tried again.

“Let go of her,” Claire demanded again.

“What will you do if I don’t?” Pete taunted, and she saw red, it all happened so fast, her arm coming back and her fist coming forward and landing right on his jaw. He startled, dropping his hold of Karen’s wrist as he stumbled backwards, before straightening immediately and lunging at her. “You _bitch_.”

Owen could see him coming, but couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t put himself between her and Pete, before Pete’s hands went around Claire’s neck as he knocked both of them to the ground. Karen let out a scream, as it was Owen’s turn to see red, grabbing at Pete and trying to yank him off of Claire, who was struggling beneath him. Owen felt a burst of adrenaline, as Claire clawed at Pete’s hands, and succeeded finally, throwing him off of his wife.

 _Never turn your back on the cage_ , had been his refrain at the Park, and he heeded that advice now, letting Karen scramble to the floor to help Claire sit up as he stood protectively in front of the two women, his hands clenched at his side. Everything in him wanted to turn around and make sure Claire was okay, but he knew better than to do that at the moment.

“That was a mistake,” Owen told Pete in a low voice. “You should _not_ have touched my wife. Claire, hon, I need you to call 911.”

It was Karen who answered instead, her voice reedy and thin with fear, and that didn’t help Owen’s racing heart slow down at all.

“I’ll find a phone, I’ll go find a phone.” Karen stood on shaky legs, and Pete moved towards her, but Owen held up his hand.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he said.

“She hit me first, that’s assault,” Pete seethed, touching his newly swollen lip.

“I’d like to see you try that argument,” Owen shot back, and Pete dove to make a break out of the room, but Owen was faster this time, anticipating Pete's move and blocking the doorway, placing both hands on Pete's shoulders. They were about even in height, but Pete was wider. Owen dug his heels in, holding his ground, keeping Pete from moving forward, but he was starting to lose traction when there was a crash and Pete crumpled to the ground. 

Standing behind him, holding the remnants of a broken lamp in her hands, was Karen. Owen hadn't even heard her come back into the room, but he was relieved as hell to see her standing there, chest heaving as she sucked in deep breaths. 

“Jesus, remind me to never mess with the Dearing girls,” Owen breathed out. _Speaking of Dearing girls_ , he thought as he spun around on his heels to see Claire still slumped up against the couch, her hand gingerly touching her throat. He dropped to a crouch immediately, bringing his hands to cup her face. “Hey baby, you okay?” She nodded, and he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Can you talk to me? You're making me a little nervous.” 

“I'm okay,” she answered, her voice hoarse. “Hurts like a bitch, though.” He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment, trying to bring down his heart rate. _She's okay, she's okay, she's okay._

“Later we'll talk about how very hot you throwing that punch was,” he told her seriously, and then his face broke into a grin. 

“Good thing you taught me how to throw a left hook,” Claire replied, a small smile playing at her lips. “He out?” 

“Completely,” Owen said, glancing over his shoulder at Pete's still form. 

“Police are on their way,” Karen said, her arms wrapped around herself. “I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry.” Her face crumpled, and Claire tried to get up, but stumbled a bit, and Owen placed an arm around her to help her. 

“Easy,” he murmured. She tumbled forward, wrapping her arms around her sister, and Karen openly sobbed, burying her face in the crook of Claire's neck. 

“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,” she kept repeating, and Claire in turn kept saying, “It's over now, okay, it's all over now,” as she held Karen. 

“What do I do now?” Karen asked in a small voice, and Claire pulled back, wiping at her sister's cheeks with her thumbs.

“You come home with us,” she said simply. “That's what you'll do.” 

* * *

It was a long afternoon, giving statements, filling out police reports. 

They took pictures of Claire's neck, where finger shaped bruises were already starting to form, and both Claire and Karen filed for restraining orders.

There was a debate about whether or not to fly home that night or wait until the next morning, with Owen insisting that the last thing that Claire needed was to get on a flight. 

He would catch sight of her neck, red and bruised, and he felt sick. He felt guilty for not realizing Pete had gone downstairs, when he dropped off the bag in the guest room. He felt guilty for being two steps behind. Claire hadn't mentioned it, but it weighted heavily on him. Owen hadn't realized Pete was no longer in the hallway until he heard the voices downstairs, and he had hurried to catch up, to make sure they were okay, but things had already escalated by that point, and now Claire was hurt, and that was unacceptable. She kept repeating that she was fine, but her voice was hoarse, and he could tell that she was in pain. He had wanted to go to the emergency room, but she had balked.

“I'm _fine_ ,” she said, and after a silent debate, she had sighed and relented to see a doctor, smirking triumphantly after she was told that she would be sore and her throat might be slightly swollen, but as she hadn't lost consciousness, not to be worried. 

But she didn't mind all that much, because it took the doctor saying those words to get some of the tension to leave Owen's body. 

“I think we should get a hotel near the airport and try to get some sleep,” Owen kept arguing, his eyes drawn to Claire's neck. 

“And I think I sleep like shit in hotel beds, and all I want to do is go home and climb into bed and not leave it for a very long time,” Claire shot back. “I'm fine, okay? I just want to go home.” 

In the end, she had won, because he was in no position  _generally_ to say no to her, and he certainly wasn't in a position to deny her at that particular moment, the image of her on the ground, Pete's hands on her, seared into his brain. 

So they helped Karen quickly pack a bag, Claire anxious and jumpy the whole time they were in the house, and then left for the airport. Owen drove, Claire's hand tucked in his, as Karen sat slumped against the window in the backseat, no one really speaking during the drive. 

They were at the airport, sitting by the gate, Owen having gotten up to go on a hunt for something cold and soothing to drink for Claire's throat, when Karen slid into the empty seat next to Claire, reaching out and grabbing her hand. 

“I don't even know where to begin to thank you,” she said in a soft voice, not quite meeting Claire's eye. “You could have been killed today.” 

“I wasn't,” Claire answered immediately. “And I would do it again, in a heartbeat, I would do it again and again for you.” 

“I don't know why I let it get this bad,” Karen admitted. “I never thought I would be the kind of person who would let something like this happen.” She dropped her head onto Claire's shoulders as she began to weep. “ _Shit_ , I thought I was all cried out for the day.” Claire turned her head slightly to brush a kiss to her sister's forehead. 

“It's not your fault,” Claire told her, her voice firm. “It's not.” They were the same words that Owen had repeated to her over and over in those first few weeks after they returned home from the Island. 

“ _It's not your fault, Claire, it's not.”_

“Hey, babe, I got you a berry smoothie,” Owen's voice interrupted, and Claire looked up to find him approaching, his steps slowing as he spotted the sisters. She gave him a small smile, and extended the hand that wasn't wrapped around Karen to take the proffered cup. “I got you one too, Karen. It's an old Grady family remedy, Orange Julius I mean, it's supposed to heal all wounds.” 

“Orange Julius is?” Claire questioned with a quirk of her eyebrow. 

“Ancient family remedy,” Owen deadpanned, nodding seriously. “I might be mixing it up with whiskey, though.” He gave the sisters a grin as he dropped into the seat on the other side of Claire. 

“As grateful as I am for the smoothie,” Karen told him, lifting her head off of Claire's shoulder. “I think I might have preferred the whiskey.”

“Well, you're in luck then,” Owen said, reaching down into a bag at his feet and pulling out a bottle of Jameson. “Because in addition to the Orange Julius, I also found a duty free shop.” 

Karen was slightly drunk by the time they boarded the plane, but at least she didn't look ten seconds away at any given moment from unraveling, and Claire decided she would take it. The toll of the day, plus the booze, made Karen fall asleep before they even took off, and Claire covered her gently with the thin blanket, and then turned her attention to her husband. 

“Today was quite the day, huh?” She said, and Owen realized with a start that Claire had been holding it together remarkably well all things considering. She held it together after the police arrived at the house, and at the police station, and at the courthouse when they filed the paperwork for the restraining order. She kept her cool when the doctor poked and prodded at her, silently wincing when he touched her bruised neck. She kept it together in the airport, while Owen and Karen tried to sneakily pass back and forth the bottle of Jameson. 

If anyone deserved to fall apart, it was his wife, and Owen lifted up the arm rest separating them, and tugged her closer. 

“You okay?” He asked in a gentle voice, and she shook her head slightly, her eyes pooling with tears. “Hey, it's over now, okay? It's all over. I've got you.” And she buried her head in his chest and sobbed silently, her shoulders heaving, and all he could do was hold her, as he kept repeating, “I've got you, it's over, I've got you.” 


	9. To have and to hold onto

Zach and Gray were waiting for them as soon as they opened the door. 

Owen walked in first with Karen two steps behind him, and Gray was instantly in her arms. Zach was a little more restrained, but he stood immediately at the sight of his mother, crossing the foyer to her.

“Everything okay?” He asked, and Karen nodded.

“It is now,” she reassured him. She bit down on her lip and looked at her sons. “I’m so sorry. For everything that I put you two through, and for…”

“Don’t apologize,” Zach interrupted, and Claire, coming into the house behind her husband, was struck by how grown-up he looked and sounded. “It was _you_ we were worried about. But everything’s okay, now, right?” This time he looked at Claire and Owen for confirmation, and Owen nodded, tugging Claire into his side and wrapping an arm around her.

She could tell instantly the second Zach noticed the bruising around her neck, and his eyes darkened and narrowed. But it was Gray, with wide eyes, who asked, “What happened?”

“I should have worn a turtleneck,” Claire muttered.

“Are you okay?” Zach demanded, shooting accusatory looks at both his uncle and mother, as if they were to blame for both the withholding of information and for the swelling and finger shaped bruises around Claire’s pale neck.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Claire assured. It was a sentence that she had repeated ad nauseam to both her sister and husband over the past twelve hours, and it was a sentence she would be _very_ happy to not have to say again. “There was an incident, but everyone is fine and everything is fine, and we’re just very happy to be home.”

That was the understatement of the century. Despite the fact that it had been a short trip, it felt overwhelmingly good to be home. It almost made her want to weep in happiness, although she also figured the exhaustion that had settled into her bones probably had something to do with the swell of emotion she felt. It had been an effort to make it from the car into the house, and she really didn’t have the energy to reassure her nephews at the moment that she really was okay. She was aware that she was leaning heavily on Owen, and she knew that he was aware of it too, his strong arm tightening on her waist to keep her upright.  

“Guys,” Owen spoke up. “We’ll rehash every detail later, but right now, we haven’t slept in going on 48 hours, and your mom and aunt could both use some rest. So we’re going to shelve this conversation until we’ve slept for a few hours. I promise you, everything is okay, got it?” Gray nodded instantly, some of the tension easing off of him, but Zach looked unconvinced. Owen stared Zach down until he finally muttered, 

“Yeah, okay,” with a shrug, shoving his hands into his pocket. 

Owen moved his hand to the small of his wife's back as they moved past the boys and up the stairs, Claire pausing to brush a kiss to each of their cheeks. Karen followed behind, slightly uncertainly, and Claire realized they would have to shift the sleeping arrangements to make room for her. The boys each had their own guest room, but the third guest room had been converted into an office.

As if he was reading her mind, Owen brushed his mouth close to her ear.

“We’ll move Zach into the office on the pull out couch,” he dropped a kiss there. “I’ll do it. You go lay down.” She thought about reiterating once again that she was _fine_ , but decided that she was too tired for that. Instead, she nodded, allowing him to give her a soft kiss, before stumbling into their bedroom, pausing only long enough to pull off her shoes and shimmy out of her pants. She slid gratefully under the covers, asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

* * *

 

Owen helped Zach move his stuff into the office, handing the kid an extra set of sheets for the pull out couch, before heading in to strip the bed in the guest room. He grabbed a pair of clean sheets for his sister-in-law from the hall closet, and stepped into the guest room. 

“I can do this,” Karen’s voice startled him as he finished putting the fitted sheet on. She was leaning against the door jam, an unreadable look on her face. 

“I’m almost done,” he shrugged, shooting her a smile. “Besides, what kind of hosts would we be if we just let you sleep on dirty sheets?” He slid a pillow into a case and then picked up the flat sheet. Karen stepped into the room, smoothing her hand over the sheet Owen had just put on. She seemed unsure. Of herself, of what to do. She seemed jumpy and fidgety, not that he blamed her in the very least. 

_Goddamn Pete_. He certainly did a number on her. It almost made Owen wish he had gotten in a shot at him before Claire did.

Almost. It had been pretty damn hot watching his wife pull her fist back and slam it into his face. He had been fucking proud of her in that moment.

“Claire asleep?” Karen asked, and Owen nodded.

“Guarantee she was out the second she closed her eyes,” he confirmed.

“She’s okay, though, right? I mean, I know she says she’s okay, but I’m just…” Karen twisted her fingers together in a gesture reminiscent of his wife. She sighed, dropping her hands to her side with a helpless shrug. “I would hate for anything to happen to her because of my choices.”

“She’s okay,” Owen reassured. “She’s pretty tough.” Karen gave a short laugh that turned into a choked sob.

“She’s so much tougher than me,” she confessed, her voice breaking. _Shit._ He never knew what to do when Claire cried, and her sister was no different. He dropped the sheet he was still holding on the bed, and pulled her in for a hug.  

“You’re pretty tough. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” he told her. “You left with us. That’s no small feat.”

“Pete didn’t give me much of a choice,” Karen argued, but Owen was shaking his head.

“You always have a choice,” he shot back. Karen swiped at her wet cheeks, and stepped back away from him.

“I can see why she loves you so much,” she said with a small smile. “I can see why she felt safe with you after, you know, everything that happened.” She paused. “I’m wondering if there’s a limit to how much a person can owe another, because once again, I owe you big time.”

“You’re family,” Owen waved away her gratitude. “You don’t owe me anything. Seriously.” It was a little odd for him, the whole sibling dynamic. He had been an only child, and his relationship with his parents was rocky at best. But _loyalty_ he understood, and it took no time at all for him to accept the Dearings as his own.

Claire was his family. Karen and her sons were Claire’s family, which made them _his_ family, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for any of them.

“At the very least,” she told him. “Let me finish making the bed. I know how exhausted you must be. I slept a little on the flight at least.”

“If you insist,” he said with a grateful smile. “I’m going to go sleep for at least an hour or two. The boys know where everything in the house is, and the keys to either my car or Claire’s are hanging by the back door.” He gave her arm a squeeze as he passed and very quietly opened the door to the master bedroom, being very careful not to wake Claire.

He didn’t have to worry about that, his wife was dead to the world, curled up on her side. He wasted no time at all in getting out of his clothes and climbing in behind her.

And just like his wife, he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

Claire woke up a few hours later, Owen’s arm wrapped around her middle. She could faintly hear her sister’s voice mingling with her nephews' voices from downstairs, and she smiled to herself. She turned slightly so that she could look at Owen, wondering what she had ever done to deserve him.

She must have been very good in another life, she decided, as she brushed a light kiss to his lips.

“I propose,” he said, without opening his eyes. His voice was warm and drowsy with sleep, and she only felt half bad for waking him up.  “We stay in this bed forever.” Claire laughed lightly, giving him another kiss, deeper this time.

“I second that proposal,” she answered. His eyes finally blinked open.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, and she nodded. “Your neck okay?”

“You need to stop worrying,” she accused gently. “I’m really okay.” She shifted so that she could rest head against his chest, and his hand dropped down into her hair, rubbing her scalp gently.

“Hmm,” he answered, noncommittally. He gave a sigh that she felt rumble under her cheek.

“I can hear everyone downstairs,” Claire reported. “I don’t know if staying in bed forever is realistic.”

“You’re probably right, we’ll probably get too hungry eventually,” Owen agreed.

“But not yet,” it was Claire’s turn to sigh, burying her face in his chest. “I don’t want to get up just yet.”

She figured it was important to give her sister and nephews some time to talk things over. Claire wasn’t sure what was going to happen. She had told her sister more than once on the flight back to San Diego that she and the boys were welcome to stay as long as they needed to. And Karen had given her a small smile and shrugged.

“Maybe a change of scenery would do everyone some good,” Karen had said, and Claire agreed immediately. Even before this, Madison was full of memories, some good, some bad, most bittersweet, for both Karen and the boys, and moving closer to Claire and Owen could be a fresh start for all three. Zach was leaving for school at Berkeley in a few months anyway, and Gray was an adaptable kid. Karen could sell the house and stay with Claire and Owen until she found a job and a place to live.

Claire’s mind had already raced ahead, thinking of places that were hiring, and houses that she knew her sister would be able to afford, and mentally was already preparing a spreadsheet with the pros and cons for Karen.

“Not yet,” Owen agreed, tucking a kiss into her hair.

Her sister was safe, downstairs with her nephews, and Owen was here, his arms wrapped around her, and for the moment everyone and everything was okay.

So Claire let her eyes close again, letting the sound of Owen’s heartbeat under her ear, and the soothing feel of his fingers carding through her hair, lull her back to sleep.


	10. And may I always have you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! For reading, for encouraging, the response to this has been overwhelming, and I don't ever know what to do with praise, so I'm just going to say thank you one more time and leave it at that.

Claire unlocked the door to the house and threw her purse onto the counter. 

It had been a long day.

She sighed as she hung the keys up on the hook, grabbing the bottle of wine she had picked up from her bag and crossing to where they kept the corkscrew. She was in the middle of pouring it into a glass when she heard the door open and her name being called.

“In the kitchen,” she called back, taking a long drink.

“Hitting the bottle already?” Claire could hear the smirk in her sister’s voice, and she rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t even wait for the rest of us?”

“No,” Claire replied bluntly, bracing herself for Gray as he threw himself into her for a hug. Gray hugged with his whole body, still, despite the fact that he was now taller than her. “Hey kid.”

“Rough day at work?” Karen asked, sympathetically, reaching into the cabinet to pull out of her own wine glass and wasting no time in catching up with her sister. Claire breathed out, her bangs fluttering as she did, and nodded.

“Yes, but it’s over, right? And we have things to celebrate.” She forced a smile and Gray grinned. “Owen called while I was driving home. They’re about twenty minutes out.” Claire collapsed into a kitchen chair, propping her feet up on the chair opposite. “In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy this glass of wine.”

 

(It hadn’t taken much convincing after all to get Karen to agree to move to San Diego. Gray, even less so. He had been so excited about the idea that he had practically buzzed out of his skin, hopping from foot to foot, as he nodded enthusiastically.

Owen and Claire had flown back with them to help pack up the house, half afraid of unwelcome guests showing up, but it had gone smoothly. It took no time at all to box up what they wanted, sell off what they didn’t, and put the house on the market.

Thanks to Claire’s contacts, Karen found a job pretty easily, and a place only a short drive from Claire and Owen. It all came together so flawlessly that Claire confessed one night to Owen that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It can’t just be this easy, right?” She had said, her head resting on his chest as he played with the ends of her hair.

“Maybe it can, maybe we’ve gone through all our bad luck and we have only good luck from now on,” he replied, optimistically. 

Claire wasn't so easily sold, but there were no reappearances from Pete, even though Karen worried that he might show up at Owen and Claire’s.

“He doesn’t know where I live now, but he knows where to find you two,” she had worried her bottom lip between her teeth just like Claire did, and it made Owen’s heart skip a beat remembering the bruises on Claire’s neck that seemed to take goddamn forever to finally fade. 

Owen sat up for a few nights after that conversation, holding his wife in his arms and listening for every little sound that might be out of the ordinary. On night three of his watch, Claire had woken up and swatted him on the arm.

“Go to sleep,” she demanded. “We have an alarm system. He’s a bully, not a ninja. He won’t be able to get into the house without us knowing. Don’t be an idiot.” She had turned over, burying her head in her pillow, and that had been that.

So things were good. _Unbelievably_ good. They all went with Karen to drop off Zach at school in late August. He feigned embarrassment at all four trailing into his tiny dorm room behind him, muttering, “I don’t need a whole entourage,” but Claire caught the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

His new roommate was nice enough, although he seemed startled when he spotted Owen and Claire in the room. She had forgotten that there was a brief time when they had been minor celebrities, their faces flashed all over newspapers. Claire had threatened to draw blood if Zach and Gray’s pictures or names were used, but thankfully, for all parties involved, the media seemed to only care about Owen and Claire.

“This is my Aunt Claire and Uncle Owen,” Zach had introduced, and the kid, Kyle, just stared at the two of them.

“You outran a t- _rex_ ,” Kyle finally sputtered, and Claire blushed as Owen slung an arm around her shoulders.

“She sure did. In heels, none the less,” Owen replied proudly.

“That’s _awesome,_ ” Kyle breathed, and Claire turned even redder, if such a thing was possible, the flush on her cheeks deepening. Owen pressed a kiss to her temple, and then stood back as Claire shook off the embarrassment and took charge, organizing the room. Zach knew better than to offer up any suggestions, despite the fact that it was his room, and in no time at all, Claire had his things organized and put away, clapping her hands together and suggesting they all go out to grab something to eat before their flight back to San Diego. Kyle looked shell shocked, and Owen clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“The t-rex thing? That’s sort of the tip of the iceberg on what she’s capable of,” he grinned at him.

Karen cried, hanging onto Zach when it was time to leave, and he hung his head in embarrassment, hands shoved into pockets.

“Aunt Claire,” he implored. “Could you…” He looked at her for help, and Claire jumped into action.

“Come on, Karen, he’s not that far. Still in the same state and everything, we’ve got a plane to catch, and he’s got to go settle in,” Claire wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist and tugged her gently out of the room. Gray snickered until Owen reminded him it would be his turn next.

“And she’ll be even worse then,” Owen told him. “Because you’re her baby.” Which shut him up really fast. 

"Maybe you could go to USC?" Karen suggested as they all climbed in the rental car to head back towards the airport.

"Maybe you should look into Harvard," Claire chimed in, and her sister shot her a dirty look, slamming the car door and sniffling a couple times as they drove away from the campus and away from Zach.)

 

“Hello?” The front door swung open, and Zach’s voice echoed through the hallway.  

“He’s home!” Karen exclaimed, jumping to her feet, the half glass of wine abandoned on the table as she tore into the front hallway. She spotted Zach and threw her arms around his neck.

“Hey Mom,” Zach smiled as he returned her hug, fresh from his semester abroad in Spain. Kyle had convinced him to spend the spring semester of their sophomore year immersing themselves in the Spanish culture.

“And I’m sure the Spanish ladies,” Owen had winked at his nephew, who had turned bright red, but didn’t deny that was part of the appeal. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” Karen murmured. “How was it? Tell me everything!”

“Give the kid a second to get his bearings straight and breathe,” Karen’s boyfriend Joe teased as he stepped in the house behind Zach, leaning down to brush a kiss along her cheek. Karen shot him a glare.

“You’ve gotten to drive all the way here from the airport with him, be quiet,” Karen replied tartly. She looped her arm through Zach’s leading him farther into the house. Claire shot up out of her chair immediately, pulling him away from her sister and wrapping him in a hug.

"I think you got taller while you were abroad," she told him squeezing his arm. "Certainly got more handsome. I bet those Spanish girls were crazy about you." Zach ducked head with a bashful smile. “Where’s your uncle?” She glanced behind him for her husband, and found instead an empty hallway. 

“Charlie fell asleep in the car,” Zach reported. “Uncle Owen didn’t want to wake her up.” Claire and Owen’s daughter, Charlie, was six months old and going through a phase where she would not sleep unless she was moving. It meant that they spent a lot of time driving around, hoping the motion of the car would lull her to sleep, and then spending even more time in the car, trying to _keep_ her asleep. 

"She's stubborn like her mother," Owen always said, and Claire would pinch him in response.

 

 

(Like most with most things, despite Claire’s best laid plans, the three year baby plan moved up in a hurry when the stick turned pink. Owen had been ecstatic, Claire utterly terrified.

“You’re going to be a great mother,” Owen insisted, “look how well you take care of all of us.” Claire remained largely unconvinced, but Karen had rolled her eyes at her sister’s concerns.

“Putting aside the fact that I think you’re crazy for not thinking you’ll be a good mother, the fact remains that you have never failed at anything you’ve put your mind to,” Karen pointed out, and Claire had scoffed.

“I failed pretty spectacularly at running Jurassic World,” Claire pointed out, and Karen shook her head.

“Jurassic World failed, Claire, not you,” Karen shot back, she pressed a kiss to her little sister’s forehead. “You’re going to do just fine.”  

Charlotte Zara Grady was born on a Tuesday, early in the morning, and the instant she was put into her mother’s arms, Claire fell madly in love.

“Oh,” Claire breathed softly to Owen. “Karen was right. It is worth it.” Her eyes, exhausted but content, flew up to meet her husband’s, and she gave him a watery smile. “Don’t tell her I said that. She’ll be unbearable.” Owen pressed a kiss to her temple, a wide smile on his face. He was pretty sure he wasn't ever going to stop smiling. The smile was now permanently attached to his face.  

“Your secret is safe with me,” he promised.)

 

“Did you meet any girls?” Karen asked her son, as they settled in at the table.

“Uh,” Zach rubbed the back of his neck, and Gray snorted.

“I think that’s a yes,” Joe grinned. He placed both hands on Karen’s shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. She reached up a hand and placed it on top of his. Joe was exactly what Karen, what the _boys_ , needed after the disaster that was Pete. He was kind, and funny, and patient. He had slid so seamlessly into the family that it felt like he had always been there.

Claire left the four of them in the kitchen and headed out the front door to the car. She knocked lightly on the driver’s side window, and Owen grinned at her, hitting the button to lower the window.

“Hey, hon,” he said. “I just wanted to give her a little while longer before I moved her and risked waking her up.” Claire nodded, glancing into the back seat where Charlie was fast asleep.

“Karen’s grilling Zach about girls,” Claire reported with a smile, and Owen winced.

“Poor kid,” he said. He shut off the car and Claire walked around to the other side and eased open the car door. Charlie didn’t stir as she undid the buckles holding the carrier into place, and Claire sent a silent prayer up as she gently pulled the carrier out of the base.

Owen offered to take the baby, but Claire shook her head, making her way up the path to the house, her heels clicking with every step. Owen caught up easily, opening the door for them, and Claire stepped inside to the sound of laughter from the kitchen. Without placing the carrier down, she toed off her shoes and kicked them aside, heading back towards the laughter.

Owen spied the open bottle of wine and flashed his wife a grin.

“Rough day?” He asked Claire, and she shrugged easily, glancing around at all the people she loved in her kitchen, her heart swelling.

“Not anymore,” she replied with a smile, accepting a kiss from him and settling in at the table between her nephew and sister, her sleeping daughter in her carrier at her feet. “Now, I’m good.”


End file.
